The Looking Glass
by girl in the glen
Summary: Strange things are happening and it's a little like Alice's looking glass has come back for another go'round. Based on prompts in Section VII PicFic Challenge, on LJ.
1. Chapter 1: Into The Fire

A crackling fire was the only sign of life at the deserted campsite. There was a dread attached to the eerie quiet; only the noises of the forest could be heard alongside the pops of burning wood. Napoleon Solo crept a little closer, his gun drawn. "I don't see any indication of someone left behind. THRUSH was careless in leaving this fire burning."

The people who had probably built the fire were UNCLE agents accompanying a noted scientist as he fled from the Hierarchy. This had been designated as a meeting place, where Solo and Kuryakin would take over the journey and deliver Dr. Solomon to safety and a new life. Illya kicked some dirt into the waning flames, totally extinguishing the fire.

"It seems to me that THRUSH may have had more information than would be available to them simply by means of observation.' The blond looked at his partner, both of them assimilating a list of possible leaks. "My vote goes to Maynard. He has been on edge ever since this operation began."  
Napoleon nodded, he had also observed that Agent Maynard seemed agitated, as though harboring doubts or concerns. Perhaps he feared being found out.

Illya knelt down and fingered something, turning it over until recognition sparked.  
"What do you have there, Illya?" The Russian tossed it to Napoleon who caught it in a quick snatch with his right hand. He examined it, raised his eyes to get a glimpse of his partner nodding in affirmation. "Anderson? He wasn't even assigned to this operation." What Napoleon now held in his hand was a pin with a university insignia; it belonged to Agent Timothy Anderson. The man was Section III, and not assigned as part of this extraction.

"We were just discussing this pin the other day. I admired it in passing, an impressive alma mater, MIT." Illya had taken the opportunity to inquire as to the younger man's field of study, and wondered that he should wind up in Section III with UNCLE. It was, perhaps, no more perplexing than his own path.

"I guess we were wrong about Maynard.'' Napoleon looked around the campsite, trying to ascertain any other clues to what had gone wrong here. Illya straightened up and exhaled a deep breath full of exasperation. "We must assume that our men are dead, and that THRUSH now has Dr. Solomon. The question is, where are the bodies of Agents Trabeck and Neilson?" Illya's raised eyebrows added punctuation to his question. Napoleon had no answers, only a gnawing sense of betrayal at what he now assumed was a traitorous act by Timothy Anderson. It never ceased to amaze Solo that men could be bought; that morality was so easily exchanged for money.

"Do you see anything like a trail? Any kind of clue as to which way they're heading with our doctor?" Napoleon tended to lean on his partner's wolfhound attributes, depending on Illya to be guided by whatever primal instincts helped him to follow a trail. It had been to Napoleon's relief more times than he cared to admit that an uncanny intuition led the Russian to whatever obscure cell Napoleon happened to be in, courtesy of THRUSH or some other criminal type.

Illya was heading into the stand of trees at the edge of the campsite, motioning to his partner to follow him. Napoleon opened a channel to allow tracking and obliged, fully aware that there was little hope of finding Dr. Solomon on foot. He caught up to Illya and prodded him for answers.  
"You don't seriously believe that they hiked out of here on foot, do you? I mean, how far…" The question was left hanging in the morning air as the two UNCLE agents stepped out of the rim of trees and into what appeared to be a landing strip.

"Well I'll be… Did we know this was here?" Napoleon was aware as Illya looked out of the corner of his eye, taking a deep breath as he considered the lapse in intelligence on this affair. First came the revelation of a traitor and now misinformation concerning the location chosen for the rendezvous. _Someone must have known about this_.

Napoleon was contacting headquarters to find out who had been in charge of mapping out this fiasco.  
"Open Channel D, Solo for Mr. Waverly." Silence on the other end.  
"This is Napoleon Solo. Open Channel D." Nothing.

Illya headed farther out onto the clearing that had been used to land a plane and get away with Dr. Solomon, and possibly the two UNCLE agents. Illya hoped they were alive, although experience told him otherwise. Still, they had not found their bodies, lending credence to his hope. There was something glimmering in the morning sunlight about fifty yards downwind of his current location. Illya started walking towards it while Napoleon contacted Headquarters.

Solo was perplexed at the loss of signal. Sometimes the satellite hit a spot in space and lost contact for a few seconds, but it was unusual. Illya might have better luck out in that clearing. When Napoleon turned around to speak to his partner, the blond was nowhere in sight.  
"Now where did he go?" The view held nothing but the landing strip shaped clearing and the woods beyond. Great. First the communicator skipped out and then Kuryakin.

"Illya!" As loud as he could, Napoleon shouted for his partner, but there was no response. A coldness suddenly shrouded Napoleon. Illya wouldn't just walk away like this, but then where…? Napoleon's communicator trilled. "Solo…"

"Napoleon, start walking and head for the shiny object you'll see, it's straight up the middle…' Napoleon looked and spotted what Illya was referring to. "Illya? Where are you? Why did you…" "Napoleon! Just start walking. Do it now." Napoleon started walking, heading towards the glinting object fifty yards away.

When he arrived there, he could see his partner standing on the other side of it. Funny, he didn't see Illya until he got within a few feet of him.  
"Illya? What's going on?" Napoleon started to step into the space where he thought Illya was standing, but he was repelled by a hard surface that caused him to fall back, rubbing his head from the impact.

"What the … How did you get … What is this?" Now Napoleon was mad. Illya didn't play games normally, but he obviously knew the barrier was between them. Illya had a smile on his face, the one that said 'I know something you don't and I won't make it easy on you'.  
Napoleon walked a little farther down what he assumed was a straight line, touching the invisible wall as he went. Finally, with no small amount of annoyance, Napoleon reached what seemed to be the end and rounded it, only to be on the other side now as he headed back towards his partner.

"Welcome to wonderland, my friend.' Illya extended his hand to the grove beyond. It hadn't appeared this way to Napoleon when viewing it from the other side. The landing strip was a façade, for what lay on the side they came from was not long enough to serve in that capacity. On this side of the wall it was all forested, just like where the campsite was located, including the fire Illya had extinguished. It was still burning.

"Illya, this is … " Illya nodded. "Yes, it is."


	2. Chapter 2: That Which We Think Is Real

The complexity of this trick was something best left to the boys in Section V, because Napoleon was not wasting time trying to decipher the mystery. Illya was a little more inclined to unravel how they had managed to end up where they started in spite of having traveled out of the wooded area and onto a flat strip of land. As the two men looked through the glassy partition back at where they'd come from, it was the same as where they stood.

"Talk about smoke and mirrors…" Napoleon was flabbergasted at the situation, but Illya was intrigued. "No, not smoke and mirrors, but this reflecting surface made us think we were someplace that we were not. The question is, why? What possible purpose was there to this charade?"  
Napoleon harrumphed his disapproval of the glass, the deception and especially the fact that they had lost Dr. Solomon.

"We need to get our bearings and locate the man we came here to protect. Obviously part of that is already a failure." He scanned the area again and then started walking back around the partition. Illya watched him go, wondering exactly how to accomplish any of what his partner had just announced. "Napoleon! Wait up, my friend, you will probably want me along on this journey."

The UNCLE agents were about to turn the corner of the monolithic structure when the scene began to undulate and change colors; the green of the forest beyond and the grass beneath their feet was shifting and in a matter of less than a minute had been replaced by sand. Miles of sand, with nothing beyond save more of it.

"How the … What just happened here Illya?" Napoleon was holding onto the edge of the divider as the sand shifted beneath his feet. Illya stopped in his tracks, the sudden appearance of a desert all around him and the heat to accompany it was disturbing on more levels than he could list at present.

"I can honestly say that I do not know. Are we possibly on drugs?" Napoleon thought about that, but he had no memory of being captured or of encountering anything remotely like a THRUSH agent. "I don't think so. Then again, I'm pretty sure that Alice was just as confused by her looking glass." Illya raised an eyebrow in reply. "Yes, it is very much like Alice's looking glass, full of strange things that we don't understand. All we need now is …" Napoleon held up his hand. "Please, don't say it. Just … don't."

Illya still had his communicator which he pulled out in hopes of raising someone who might get them out of here. Napoleon's had produced only static, but he also opened up the pen like instrument and began to summon the elusive Channel D. Or G, or any other channel that might respond.

"Mr. Kuryakin? We've been trying to reach you and Mr. Solo for days. Where are you?" Illya looked at his communicator as though to question it, rather than the voice on the other end. "Days, you say? But, we've only just arrived here today.' As an afterthought he inquired of the girl on the line; Dorothy he thought.

"Dorothy, what day is it? The date?" Dorothy thought that was an odd question, but she answered it quickly. Dealing with Section II agents had very little latitude for second guessing.

"It's the 26th of August, Mr. Kuryakin." Napoleon heard it and shook his head in bewilderment. That was impossible. "Dorothy, it's Napoleon Solo. Are you sure about the date?" Now Dorothy was concerned; something was wrong. She buzzed the desk outside of Mr. Waverly's office to alert his secretary that he was needed on this call.

"Yes, Mr. Solo. Today is the 26th, and you've been out of touch for a week. We haven't heard from you and Mr. Kuryakin since last Tuesday."

"Mr. Solo, Waverly here. Where exactly are you and Mr. Kuryakin, and why haven't you reported in before now?" Illya and Napoleon exchanged looks of complete confusion. "Sir, we seem to have lost some time and perhaps even space. We've also lost Dr. Solomon."

On the other end the sigh of exasperation was not disguised. Alexander Waverly had waited for a week to learn of the fates of his men and of Dr. Solomon. Signals had been lost or scrambled and the bodies of two other agents found in a parking lot on the lower East Side. None of this made sense. None of it.

"We have your location Mr. Solo, and a team will be there within a few minutes to …" That got the attention of Solo and Kuryakin.  
"Wait a minute sir, did you say a few minutes? How is that possible, we're still in…"

"Where you are, gentlemen, is in Central Park. I expect some type of explanation when I see you in… approximately thirty minutes. Waverly out."  
Napoleon and Illya were completely confused by this strange turn of events, but as they looked around them it was evident that they were indeed in Central Park. The glass partition was gone.

"Illya?"  
"Napoleon?"  
"Okay, we've established _who we are_, now **what the hell just happened?**" Illya shrugged in a most uncertain manner. He had no ideas. He didn't even have a headache, so it probably wasn't a drug.

"I do not know, my friend, nor do I wish to hazard a guess at this point. I only know what appeared to be real, but now is proving to have been false."  
That didn't help Napoleon very much, but something in his gut was telling him that Dr. Solomon was somehow responsible. Perhaps their first mistake had been in believing that a THRUSH can shed those feathers in exchange for something different.  
The approaching sound of a helicopter broke the strained exchanges. A forensics team would be on board, a trip to medical no doubt the first stop when Solo and Kuryakin arrived at Headquarters.

That first stop turned into something a little more intense than either man would have suspected. Not only were they stripped and searched in a manner usually reserved for the enemy, each one was then taken to an interrogation room where Waverly himself commenced a rigorous round of questions for which neither man had satisfactory answers.

As the night wore on Napoleon became increasingly angry, a sort of paranoia settling in on the normally cool agent. Illya, in another room, had become withdrawn and belligerent. To some observers it may not have seemed entirely unlike his daily countenance, but Waverly recognized something very different in his Russian. Increasingly, in response to a question, Illya would answer in Russian, and continued to do so until he no longer spoke English whatsoever.

The psychiatric team observing took note, well aware that agent Kuryakin never spoke his native language here in headquarters. It was a change in behavior that served as an alarm to everyone involved. In addition to Napoleon's increasing belligerence, it was now evident that the two UNCLE agents had been returned to the fold not quite as they had left it.

The reports had yet to be written, but before that could be accomplished the men who would be telling this story needed to be recovered from whatever diabolical scheme THRUSH had perpetrated on them.

The Looking Glass was reflecting a disturbing false image, and Alexander Waverly intended to find out how, and why.


	3. Chapter 3: Drink To Me Only With Thine

Alexander Waverly was disturbed. He was standing outside an observation room in which his top agent was rambling at length about the Red Queen, and how he had once known a real red queen in another country. He was having difficulty recalling exactly who she was, but Napoleon Solo was adamant that she did exist.

In another room Waverly's number two man was less talkative, and what he did say was uttered in a tone of voice seemingly staged for the Russian he spewed out in staccato like cadence. Waverly had no idea what Illya Kuryakin was saying, but it carried a decidedly more sinister message than the one featuring a red queen.

As Waverly stood outside the room, looking through the one way glass partition and wondering what on earth had been done to his men, Dr. Reginald Latimer approached. He was a top man in the labs, and had been given the task of dissecting the blood specimens collected from Solo and Kuryakin. Something was coursing through their veins and causing this strange behavior; something that needed to be identified.

"Mr. Wavelry…' Latimer approached the old man with a degree of apprehension. No one wanted to have only part of the answer to this puzzle, and the full picture was not yet developed.

"Sir, we have some good news about Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin." Waverly looked at Latimer as though he were delivering eggs; something fragile was passing by and it had to be protected at all costs.

"What is it, man? We don't have time to dawdle with this. What is in their system, and can we get it out?" Latimer was prepared for this direct approach from his superior, but it was intimidating nonetheless.

"Yes sir, you're absolutely right. We have isolated the substance that was given to them.' Latimer indicated Solo beyond the glass. "We should have a treatment to reverse the effects very soon, and according to our findings it may well reverse itself in a fairly short time."

Waverly was looking at Latimer now with an anticipation of more, his eyebrows raised like a flag on a windy day.

"How much time, Mr. Latimer? Hours, days…weeks possibly? How long before we have these men back to themselves?" Latimer was nodding his head, agreeing with something that hadn't been stated.

"Yes sir, they will be back to themselves, we're almost certain of that. In the next two or three hours we should see a change, unless the antidote is ready sooner, in which case it should have an immediate effect. Sir."

Reginald Latimer exhaled, just a little.

"I see. What is this substance? What was shot into my agents?" Waverly was mad as a wet hen over this. Solo and Kuryakin had been going on about being in the forest and then in the Sahara, all the while surrounded by the trees of Central Park. The illusion they had believed was a mutual one, not easy to achieve. Only Dr. Solomon could have concocted this formula, and the only reason he had pretended to defect was to pull this trick out of his black bag.

Waverly, while regretting having sent his men into what turned out to be a trap, still wanted Solomon in his grasp. The man was dangerous and needed to be stopped. Slate and Dancer were on the trail now, and with a two day delay it seemed they might never succeed.

"Work on that antidote Dr. Latimer. These men deserve better than to be left like lab experiments gone wrong. Don't let me down, Latimer; don't let _them_ down." Latimer understood, he respected Solo and Kuryakin and what they did. He would find a way to get them back to normal as quickly as possible.

An unlikely lead had sent April Dancer and Mark Slate to a ship that was due to set sail within the next two days. It had a Scandinavian registry and carried only a few passengers; among them would be Dr. Solomon and a woman by the name of Sylvia Kaul. The two had separate state rooms, and according to the contact that Slate had gotten his information from, the woman was much younger than the grey haired doctor.

Dancer and slate assumed that the woman, Sylvia, was most likely a member of THRUSH sent to escort Solomon back to his home in Portugal. The world was incredibly small when it came to the criminals who traversed it so easily. For whatever reason, the security was non-existent when the two UNCLE agents boarded the Agni Alviss, and they had Solomon in custody within a short period of time. He didn't resist, only asked that Miss Kaul not be harmed in any way.

April found that odd, until she noticed a striking resemblance between the two travelers.

"Is Sylvia your daughter, Dr. Solomon? Of course we won't harm her, we aren't like your colleagues in THRUSH." Solomon frowned at that, obviously not relishing being compared to the criminals he knew populated that Hierarchy.

"Miss Dancer, perhaps you cannot understand why I have done what seems unconscionable; they were threatening Sylvia with great harm unless I doped Solo and Kuryakin. There is no long lasting harm involved with the potion I gave them, I assure you." April was not impressed with this attempt to gain her sympathy, nor was Mark.

"Doctor, perhaps you've forgotten about the two agents who disappeared. We haven't yet found their bodies, but neither have we heard from them to know that they are still alive." Solomon seemed surprised by that, and not a little amused. "I'm afraid they also partook of my little elixer. I imagine they are a little worse for it than Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin, the dosage was a little higher. They will come home soon enough, I am quite certain of that."

This conversation took place as Dancer and Slate herded the father and daughter from the ship and down to their car. THRUSH had let them go for some reason. Perhaps the results were not as impressive as had been anticipated. For whatever reason, it was a relief to the agents that they didn't have a battle over this one. Now their only concern was for the agents who were missing, and the two who seemed out of their minds.

Napoleon Solo had been in some strange places and experienced bizarre things, but he had never hallucinated to the degree that this last drug had taken him. He could remember everything, and it still seemed very real to him. Illya was in the bed next to his, still speaking only Russian and practically spitting at anyone who got close enough to try and draw blood. Because of that they tended to leave him mostly alone.

"Tovarisch, please… you need to be nice. Illya?" Napoleon hated that his friend was still under the influence of the drug and wondered why it had lingered in the blond and not his own system. That is, until he thought on it a little longer.

"Illya, I know you're back, and I know what you're doing. As your superior, I'm telling you that it needs to stop. It isn't nice to bamboozle the medical staff."

Illya looked at Napoleon, a sheepish grin on his face. "So I have been found out, have I? You are a very good spy, Napoleon, and more clever than you look." The smirk was irritatingly coy, and Solo almost took the bait.

"That's exactly right, partner, and don't you forget it."

The banter was interrupted by the arrival of April and Mark. "Hello darlings! I see you're all back to yourselves.' April was exuberant with the good news she had to share with them. Mark nodded his greeting and then indicated that she should go ahead and tell them about their trip to collect Dr. Solomon.

"Guess who wandered into Headquarters this morning? I'll tell you…' April's smile was almost worth what they'd been through. Illya found his voice and asked her to please continue.

"Trabeck and Neilson just waltzed into work this morning as though nothing had ever happened. They don't remember much, unlike you two, but they knew enough to come back home to UNCLE. Isn't that fantastic?" April was glowing with the good news, and the three men in the room agreed that it seemed all was turning out as well as it could be.

"What of Dr. Solomon? Is he here as well?" Napoleon knew he would be getting a briefing sometime later today, whether he was released from medical or not. Mr. Waverly had already been in to check on him and decided he was at least fit for reporting.

"Yeah, he's here and so is his daughter. She's quite a dish, if I do say so." Mark had taken an interest in the young woman, keeping in mind that nothing would come of his infatuation with the beautiful Sylvia. Still, he had enjoyed escorting her here to headquarters. April thought it was cute that her partner was capable of having a crush.

"All's well that ends well, don't you agree." A statement of fact that did not call for an answer had them all smiling. Even the surly Russian had to acquiesce to the general good feeling that was permeating the room.

"Do you think we're still under the influence in some small way? I feel entirely too happy to see all of you." April couldn't resist, moving closer to Illya's bed she reached out and took his hand.

"Darling, you are completely cleared of the stuff. I guess you'll have to admit that you really do have a sweet side to your personality, and that you like us." She grinned at the blond, noticing that he did color slightly. It made her stomach lurch as she tried to squelch her own little crush.

Napoleon thought the entire scene was very amusing, but he wanted out of the bed, out of Medical and back in his apartment; and he wanted it tonight.

"Okay everyone, let's concentrate on getting things back to normal. I can't say I feel damaged by Dr. Solomon's little potion, so that means back to work for me. I think Illya might be ready to write up a report on the affair, right IK?"

Illya glowered just a little, trying to recapture the act he had enjoyed for a few hours. It wasn't working, he was genuinely glad to not be hallucinating about jungles and deserts and … What was that other thing?

"Napoleon, did we see a white rabbit in our delusional state? I could have sworn there was one." Mark snickered at that, having heard about Napoleon's red queen.

"You two had a jolly romp through Wonderland, now didn't you. I'd say you're better off here than down the rabbit hole." Illya looked at Napoleon, then back to Mark.

"Did you say Wonderland? That is exactly what it was like. I wonder how he did it?" All four of them wondered silently for a few moments, none of them with any answers to how it had been done. The little bottle of potion that Solomon had turned over to Mark and April was being analyzed thoroughly, something that Illya would no doubt be discussing with Reginald Latimer before the day was over.

"I don't care what we call it, the whole thing was a once in a lifetime experience, and that means I only want to do it once." Napoleon had no desire to live in a fantasy, real life was just fine, bumps and all.

No one saw the white rabbit that hopped down the hall. It didn't set off any alarms as it made its way to the men's restroom where it promptly disappeared through the full length mirror.


End file.
